Like Father, Like Son
by theskyinflames
Summary: Ever wonder the story behind Agent Townsend and Catherine Goode, what happened eighteen years ago? The deception and dedication behind it? Or what happened in Zach's past for him to walk around with so much regret and quilt weighing on his shoulders?
1. Chapter 1

**Rio de Janeiro, Brazil**

**Febuary 17, 1995**

_Her deep red hair blew softly in the warm breeze. She stood with her bare feet in the sand, the end of her white dress slightly brushing the calm water that held the magnificent, blurred image of the sun setting in the distance.  
_

_She stood with her back to him, and he studied her. Watched her in silence as if she was one of the rarest creatures on Earth. Which, to him, see was. She was an unsolvable mystery in his eyes. And even though he was a special agent he could not figure her out. One strategy to finding a wanted target was to analyze the target's ways and every aspect of their life- to think and react as if you were the target. But most importantly, to get inside their mind.  
_

_And that right there was the problem._

_He couldn't understand her, she knew how to get up his hopes- as if he was remotely close to discovering who she really was- just to break him down. He couldn't find a way into her mind, and frankly, she couldn't find a way out of his._

_She turned to him, her light green eyes held a mysterious gleam within them, just the right amount to send him over the edge._

_"Enjoying the view?" She asked, a smirk flourished on her ruby lips._

_He smirked back, slowly closing in the little space between them. His lips gently brushed against her ear as he whispered, "Perhaps a little too much."_

_She narrowed her eyes at him for a split second before glancing down at the sand, her smirk entirely disappeared. "Well what is it you're waiting for, darling? I can't say I don't enjoy playing these games with you but I'm not interested in teasing anymore. I want..._need_ more."_

_He understood exactly what she meant._

_He grabbed her small waist, pulling her against him. For once, he saw the smallest fragment of surprise in her lush green eyes._

_"Say it," He ordered. "I want to hear you say it."_

_His hand lifted her chin back up gingerly, forcing her eyes to meet his._

_"I..." He was waiting for another cocky remark._

_The last thing he was expecting was her hands wrapping around his neck and pulling his lips only centimeters away from hers._

_"I want you."_

_That was all he needed to completely diminish all the possible space between the two of them. He crushed his lips into hers forcefully and didn't stop there, dragging her onto the sand and allowing the rest play out the way they both craved as the darkness of the night took over. _

_Little did he know how the events that night could unknowingly catch up to him in eighteen years. _

**Agent Edward Townsend**

**Present Day **

The operative sat silently in the chair of a cheap, barren motel room. The motel was precisely 4.62 miles away from the deceitful Gallagher Academy, and that was exactly why he chose it.

Scattered in front of him were several cream colored MI6 files regarding the capture and isolation of an international terrorist. A women as dangerous and she was cunning.

She was a con artist. A criminal and an highly trained as well as intelligent assassin. But more importantly, she was a member of the Circle of Cavan, a secret organization that was as deadly as she was.

The image of her in the sub-level, hands handcuff and under maximum surveillance flashed through his mind. Her hair that resembled the flames of fire was unruly and partially covering the sides of her face. In that moment she looked like a crazed lunatic, slowly swaying her body back and forward as she whispered the lyrics of a nursery song repeatedly to herself.

_A mother_.

A women like that was also a mother.

Agent Townsend snickered at the thought.

_The mother of _my_ son_.

He realized within those few seconds how no one truly understood Catherine Goode, and maybe that was because not even Catherine Goode understood herself.

The women spent her whole life blinded by anger and motivated by her determination to get vengeance- not only on the Gallagher Academy but on those who crossed her. She set out to prove herself yet ended up not only becoming drunk off power but captive by the one place she abhorred most. The one place she blamed for the way she turned out.

_"What do you think, Townsend, darling? Isn't he like you? I think he's just like you." _

The words haunted him, never leaving him mind.

Edward remembers the night she said them, drugged on truth serum yet with a much higher dosage. He remembers the way she continued to glance back and forward between him and Zach Goode, her son.

_Their_ son.

A bottle of Scotch was already in his hands and he poured himself a glass.

6,574 days. 157,785 hours. 9,460,800 minutes.

_Eighteen years _he went clueless, not even having the slightest idea that he had a son- let alone that he was already acquainted with his son.

Of course throughout the short time he knew Zach Goode he was weary of him. He observed him and even checked the files the Blackthorne Academy kept on him various times. But that wasn't for any other reasons then the fact that he was the son of the one and only Catherine Goode- and apples _usually_ don't fall far from the tree.

Sure, Edward noticed some similarities between him and Zach. Mostly that they both shared similar mindsets while on the field, and some other miscellaneous, unimportant observations. Though he shrugged them off as meaningless.

Until now, he was merely a single British man working for his country and who had no intentions on changing his lifestyle anytime soon. And that meant nothing tying him down- with Abigail Cameron being the only exception.

Everything was different now. He had a son now_. _

More importantly, he was a _father_ now.

* * *

**Zach Goode**

He stared into the distance, observing the fresh cut grass and the evenly spaced oak trees of the Gallagher landscape. His back was pressing against the hard wood of the bench as his mind was stuck somewhere else.

Catherine wasn't lying when she swore his father was alive and well- he knew that now. What he didn't know was if Townsend was speaking the truth when he said he had no idea that he had a son.

Townsend was an _operative_. And Zach was supposed to believe him?

He ignored the thought, knowing the answer really didn't matter either way.

He was already too screwed up. Too scarred and too damaged.

_Too much like his mother. _

Nobody knew his life at Blackthorne, nor what he did after he was recruited out of Blackthorne by his own mother. Not the blood he had on his hands and definitely not the pain he kept hidden. _  
_

Despite what others thought- they didn't know him. Never would know him. Never would _want_ to.

"It'll work out. Things always do."

"Can't say I know what you're talking about, Gallagher Girl."

Cammie narrowed her eyes at him, seeing through his lie. "I was there too."

He caved in, responding, "It doesn't matter."

"It does and we both know that," She whispered back, her voice as low as the breeze. "You don't have to lie to me."

For the hell of it, he smirked and pointed at himself. "_Spy_."

She rolled her eyes in response. "My mom asked me to find you."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm flattered, really, but why?"

"Mr. Tow-" Cammie stopped. She rephrased softly, "Your...father...is here to talk to you."

Almost instantly she saw him tense at her words. Through clenched teeth he said, "Don't call him that. He doesn't deserve to be labeled that."

"He didn't know, Zach."

"Really, Cam?" He laughed, it was short and humorless. "Your trying to tell me that a special agent of Britain's MI6 had no clue that he had a son- a son he met and even-" He paused. "Doesn't even matter."

"You want to know what does matter?" She snapped. "Your father is alive and maybe he did know or maybe he didn't- but he's here _now_. Isn't that enough?"

He then remembered who he was talking to. The girl whose father he helped put seven feet underground.

He kissed her forehead softly, "You're right."

Cammie laced her fingers through his, flashing a small yet beautiful smile up at him.

She, ironically, helped him deal with his demons. But he had a feeling that not even she could keep them away for long.

* * *

**A/N: **

**Review if you want me to continue! Thoughts, predictions, constructive criticism is all welcomed. Chapters will be longer! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Rio de Janeiro**

**February 18, 1995**

_He lay there silently, allowing the warm morning breeze to enclose him in absolute bliss. He planned on embracing the last couple of hours he had before returning to the real reason he was in Brazil. To track down leads on an international terrorist organization. A terrorist organization that had a tendency to pop up all throughout history unexpectedly and without a trace. Not to mention a very loyal and dedicated group that covert agencies all over the world had little to no information on. But most importantly, a terrorist organization he was hellbent on taking down._

_Edward felt the red haired beauty stir next to him. Their clothes were scattered all around them on the pure white sand, nothing more than a thin quilt covering their naked bodies._

_Her body scooted closer to his bare side. Her lush lips slowly trailing up his neck and to his ear, "Do you know what I enjoy better than dirty dancing and making love on the beach?"_

_His eyes were closed shut as he listened to the waves kissing the shore. He pulled her closer with one toned arm, responding with a simple, "Hmm?"_

_Her lips flourished in a smirk against his ear as she whispered, "Playing with guns."_

_"Is that so?" He chuckled. If only she knew what he did for a living._

_"It is, darling." She pecked just below his earlobe, adding softly, "I also like to play with my food..._before_ I eat it."_

_What happened next genuinely surprised him._

_The cold metal tip of a handgun pressed against his temple. His eyes fluttered open. He remained calm as he glanced from her cold green eyes to her cocky, sinister smile. In those two unpredictable seconds he realized he finally got a peak inside of her unsolvable mind._

_The mind of an assassin._

**Agent Edward Townsend**

**Present Day**

Edward found him in the P&E barn. He casually leaned against the thick wooden doorway and merely observed as his son took quick swings at the punching bag. The agent saw the way his body slightly tensed as his dark eyes met his own in the reflection of the mirrors that surrounded them.

Zach continued punching, nonchalantly asking, "What do you want, Townsend?"

It had been a little over three days since Catherine ultimately proclaimed Zach as Edward's son. At first, he was in denial- they both were. Catherine was a liar among a long list of other vile things. Though in the back of Edward's mind, everything was agreeing with her accusation.

"I never knew," Edward admitted. His bright blue eyes watched his son as he clarified, "I never knew I had a son."

He noticed Zach hitting the bag harder, his jaw slightly clenched as his fists kept connecting with the black bag. Just another thing they had in common- keeping their problems hidden and their anger buried.

Edward was a special agent working for Her Highness. He exceeded at his job, swift with his lies and quick with solutions. But as he stood there watching his aloof son in silence, he struggled for the right words.

"The first time I heard about you was when I was tracking down Solomon. Something about him having a little prodigy whose mother just happened to be apart of the Circle." He shrugged, lightly pushing off of the doorway. "It took some time to find something on you- anything. My first thought was either this kid has something to hide, or he's better than I suspected. I found some records of you attending Blackthorne, and that was all I had on you. Until I learned you were the son of _the_ Catherine Goode."

Edward was now a good six feet from Zach, who was still concentrated on the bag- but they both knew he was listening. He continued, "Of course I expected you to be involved with the Circle too. The son of a powerful member of the Circle, nearly living with an supposed ex-member, an attendee of Blackthorne-"

Zach stopped punching for a few seconds. "Is there a point to this?"

"What I am trying to get across," He ignored him and continued, "is that I was wrong about you- at least the little I thought I knew about you. Solomon was, believe it or not, beneficial for you. Not exactly a role model, but took you under his wing and did something right. Catherine might be the closet thing to evil on Earth, but you're different. Better than her. I see that now."

"Everything I thought I had on you was far from the truth. The only thing I know for a fact now, is that you are my son. I never knew that before," He glanced at Zach, adding, "And I'll never forgive myself for that."

Silence eloped them, except for the sound of fists pounding against the punching bag. Edward studied him, his built, his brown hair, facial features- stopping on his dark eyes that resembled so much like his mother's. He could point out both himself and his mother in him- he didn't know which scared him more.

"If I had known eighteen years ago, the first time we met each other wouldn't have been by me hunting down the closet thing you had to a father."

"Then what would it have been?" Zach finally asked, releasing a humorless laugh. "You, me, and Catherine all at the dinner table together? Playing board games on family fun night?"

"Perhaps not." Edward replied, "But I could have been a father. I could have taken you away from her."

His dark eyes dropped to the floor. His fists taking a break. "A little too late."

"I know. And I am sorry."

Zach pointed out, "You're an operative."

Edward thought back eighteen years, back to Rio. "I'm also a fool."

"You're a liar," He added. "A trained one."

"Do you really think that low of me?" Edward snapped. "I've done my fair share of bad in this world, but I wouldn't lie about not knowing about my _son_. I'm not that cruel."

Zach took a seat on the bench, starring at his hands. After a few more noiseless moments he nodded, "I know."

Edward leaned on the mirror, facing his son. "I don't expect us to go to baseball games, fishing trips, or any of that but...I want to make things right."

Zach shrugged, "Putting Catherine behind bars for the rest of her pointless life at a secret government facility in Siberia sounds like a start."

"I was thinking somewhere along the lines of Chinese water torture then seven feet below in a concrete bunker beneath the Arabian Desert," Edward smirked, "But that will do."

Edward swears he saw a ghost of a smile on his face.

**Zach Goode **

**Present Day**

The moonlight sneaked through the window, shinning partially on him. He sat silently on the edge of the bed captivated by his thoughts. Since sleep rarely ever was an option- his mistakes visited him too much.

He stared at his hands. They looked clean, but only he could see the true blood that they held. The horrible things they done. The lives they took. They felt almost incomplete without the weight of his assault rifle on them.

_"He's a bad man," She smiled sweetly down at him. "Bad men deserve bad endings." _

_She gently placed the handgun in his hands. "Tell me, Zachary, are you the villain or the hero?" _

_He nervously glanced at the gun. "I don't know." _

_"Well, I think you're a hero." She positioned the gun correctly in his young hands. "And heroes listen to their mommies." _

_"Be a good boy." She pecked him on the cheek. "And pull the trigger. Be the hero." _

"_Stop_." He shouted at himself. He jumped up from the edge of the bed and went to the window, placing his hands on the old wooden sill.

He thought back to Townsend. Did he really want to be there for him? Did he truly not know? _Operative_. How could an operative not know?

Maybe he did. And maybe, just maybe he saw Zach for what he really was- fucked up and hellbent on causing bad things. After all, he was the son of Catherine Goode.

His mother was still in the sub level. The woman who taught him how to kill before he even ended up at Blackthorne.

He didn't belong at Gallagher.

They saved lives here, he only knew how to take them.

So why was he still there?

He peered down at the grounds of Gallagher. He saw her sitting on the bench, the moonlight grazing her flawless face and reflecting off of her brown hair.

And as he watched her, he knew the answer to that question.

**A/N: **

**OK, so not a lot happened yet but next chapter things finally begin :) Expect more of Zach's past and for the action to start! (Can't forget about Zammie) **

**Any predictions or random thoughts? I want to hear what you will think happens next. How does Zach tie in with Matthew's murder? Or what happens with Townsend and Catherine?**

**Review :) (I apologize for the shortness) **


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